


Fallout

by Amatara



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amatara/pseuds/Amatara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Brakiri Day of the Dead, G'Kar wonders about Londo's visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

Drifting towards wakefulness, G’Kar realized two things in quick succession.

One, that given the size of the bed, it made no sense to find himself pressed back to chest with a slumbering Centauri. And two, that breathing was made rather difficult by the hands across his abdomen and chest, none of which belonged to him. They couldn’t even all be hands, because the count was off by – well, several at least.

“Really, Mollari,” he muttered, trying to wriggle free, or at least put some distance between his nose and the heavily perfumed pillowcase beneath it. He managed the latter, but not the former. “There must be more efficient ways to kill me than suffocating me in my sleep!”

Londo responded by exhaling, heavily, into his neck. “Are there?” He sounded wistful, or possibly just hungover; G’Kar could never quite tell the difference. “Death by – boredom, perhaps? I must say you surprise me, G’Kar. For a species so poorly endowed in terms of quantity, not to mention agility, surely a creative touch could not have been too much to ask for?” But his voice was teasing, and his grip on G’Kar’s ribcage loosened slightly. One extremity, this one definitely a hand, moved away from his chest and came to settle at the top of his pouch.

G’Kar took a breath and refrained himself from pointing out that Londo hadn’t complained about a lack of creativity _last_ _night_. In fact, he had hardly complained at all, which was a novelty. If he had to put a word to it, he would have said Londo had seemed – downcast? Distracted? And the same could be said of the evening before. The one before that, G’Kar couldn’t say, because that had been the Brakiri Day of the Dead, which he had spent curled up in the station’s C &C.

He had wondered, of course, if Londo had seen a visitor that night. Judging by his good spirits the following morning, it could only have been a pleasant one. But Londo didn’t speak about it, and G’Kar didn’t ask, and by the time the day had ended, the spring he’d seen in Londo’s step might never have been there at all.

That line of thought was hard to sustain, however, as Londo’s hand was now fondling his nipples in a quite distracting way. But it was an idle gesture, not enthusiastic as much as mechanical. Almost as if Londo had other things on his mind, as if pleasuring a Narn was simply a minor interlude, something to keep the cobwebs at bay. Which didn’t feel at all like the Centauri he knew. No, if there was anything that Londo devoted his complete attention to, it was matters physical. And that included early morning sex.

In an impulse, G’Kar twisted under the covers, drawing a startled yelp when Londo failed to anticipate the maneuver. “Great Maker, G’Kar, just because I have _six_ does not mean you should –”

Their eyes met, and Londo’s voice caught in his throat. For a fleeting moment he almost looked guilty, caught in some emotion or other, then those cheeks puffed out into a mildly accusatory smile.

“You’re preoccupied,” G’Kar said, grasping Londo’s hand and putting it back on his own stomach. He reached between the folds of Centauri silk. “I suppose, as usual, it is nothing for me to concern myself with?”

Londo responded by rolling his eyes and by sending two brachiartae down to G’Kar’s nether regions, which still couldn't quite make up for the darkness in his face. G’Kar told himself that he wasn’t feeling concern, just exasperation. As a distraction, he ran his gloved hand across the length of another tentacle, catching the tip between his fingers. It quivered gently, then grew still when he ran his thumb across the pinkish-white skin.

“It’s nothing,” Londo said, voice somewhat ragged at G’Kar’s ministrations. “I am simply not in the mood for –”

G’Kar harrumphed. “Come, now, Mollari. You were ‘in the mood’, as you call it, less than two days after suffering from a heart attack. You would have been in the mood after two _hours_ , had Dr. Franklin not forbidden any type of exertion…”

“You did not _offer_ after two hours, G’Kar.” A hint of a gleam in those eyes after all. As if in punctiation, a brachiarte found the inside of G'Kar's thigh, causing him to groan with something more than impatience.

“That wasn’t my point,” he retorted, struggling to focus on something other than the sensation of blood flowing downwards. “My point is there is something troubling you, and –”

“Your point is clear, G’Kar!”

G'Kar swallowed his words, alarmed. From his expression to those probing limbs, Londo had gone rigid in a matter of seconds. G’Kar watched him toss his head on the pillow, contemplating the ceiling with a look that radiated anger first, then exasperation, waning slowly to doubt. Finally, a tremor ran through him and he let out a sigh.

“Adira – came to me,” he said, unsteadily. “Two nights ago. When you were sleeping in the, ah –”

“C&C,” G’Kar supplied. So. Now he knew. He made a cautious attempt to meet Londo’s eyes, but they stayed fixed on the paintwork above their heads. “Well, then it is a good thing that I did, I suppose. Sleep there,” G'Kar added, at Londo’s confused frown. He still had a piece of Londo curled up in his hand, but didn’t quite dare to take advantage of that. Yet.

“As opposed to sleeping in my quarters, you say?” This time, the Centauri’s expression was unmistakably wistful. “Now, G’Kar, we are both perfectly aware she was your type, as well.”

G’Kar couldn’t help it. He chuckled. “You mean, as _you_ are?”

Londo’s eyes widened, and then, quite to G’Kar’s surprise, he laughed; a low, genuine laugh coming from deep inside his belly. “Well, I cannot help it if you have odd taste, G’Kar,” he said, with a grin that was almost free of melancholy. “You might want to mention this to Delenn, you know. She was quite pleased with our being on speaking terms again, so perhaps she agrees?”

“We were always on speaking terms,” G’Kar said solemnly. He gave the tentacle in his hand an exploratory squeeze, which made Londo’s eyes flutter and his mouth fall open slightly. Beneath the covers, something was moving again, or rather several somethings, slipping down to stroke G'Kar's own hardening member. “All that has changed is the nature of what is said.”

Strangely enough, G’Kar thought, that might even be true. He had wondered, on occasion, how his life could have become so intertwined with that of Londo Mollari, but he’d never found a proper answer, except that being with Londo felt rather like being on a comet hurtling into the sun. Something told him they were in freefall already, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. Perhaps that was why he held on so tightly. Because he knew this couldn’t possibly last.

“What did she say?” G’Kar muttered, surprising himself by asking. “Adira Tyree. What did she tell you?”

Londo’s head turned into the pillow, and his rhythm faltered. “That she was simply a dream.” Faint shrug. “And that I will be Emperor soon, but my people – none of them know me. And none of them ever will.”

“ _I_ know you,” G’Kar said, and went on to prove it.


End file.
